


Demands and Sacrifice

by Tahlruil



Series: What I (Never Knew I) Wanted [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age Quest: Demands of the Qun (Inquisition), Evil Inquisitor, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Insane Inquisitor, M/M, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 00:25:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9940844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tahlruil/pseuds/Tahlruil
Summary: Though he's not too thrilled with the purpose of their mission, Dorian heads out with the Inquisitor and Bull to try and secure an alliance with the Qunari. He misses Cullen and Barkon Felix Muttrius keenly, and he hopes they can finish this quickly and easily so he can gohome. A letter provides much needed cheer... until he realizes how far Sylaera is willing to go in order to get what she wants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be up much sooner in the week, but then work and life happened - sorry!
> 
> I'm also sorry for any feels this may or may not cause. Also, the Cullen/Dorian relationship is more minor/background because of the nature of this story.
> 
> Comments please and thank you? <3

**My Dorian,**

**By now you will have reached the Storm Coast, and I managed to harass Leliana enough that she agreed to include this letter with the rest of the reports being carried by her ravens. She assured me that it would be delivered to you and only you, but… I worry. I hope it reaches you, and that you remain in good health and high spirits.**

**Things here in Skyhold are much as they ever are, though a certain lightness is in the air thanks to the absence of our Inquisitor. She’s an intimidating woman, and though she has the respect of the people, we all breathe a small sigh of relief when she is exercising her indomitable will elsewhere. Josephine and I have begun the reconstruction of the outer wall, as one never knows if Corypheus will attempt to try his might against ours. I will not let Skyhold fall so easily as Haven did. On my word this place will be ready, though we may have to sweat and bleed for it.**

**Felix is doing well, though I can tell he misses you. You may be very cross with me on your return, however, as I have sacrificed a number of your blankets to create a bed for him that smells like you. It comforts our Barkon, and he no longer whines through the night or tries to escape the room to look for you. During the day, I keep him happy and busy – he comes on my rounds with me, and I’ve also put some effort into training him. Most of my forces seem to adore him, and when he joins me for inspection they stand taller and push themselves harder – Mabari always inspire, as much as you and everyone outside of Fereldan complain about how we love our dogs. I have taught him a number of tricks that I believe will amuse and amaze you, but I hesitate to start true battle training with him. I would hate to do it wrong and hold back his progress. From what I understand, a decorated Mabari kennel master is en route to Skyhold; I believe we should wait for her so she can guide us in our efforts.**

**I miss you as much as Felix does, but perhaps not as much as Kattrin. From her sighs and the way she stares longingly out the window, one would think you were sharing HER bed at night! Her beau finds it amusing, thank the Maker, but Nylan thinks we are both being ridiculous. I am eating and otherwise taking care of myself, I promise – I pray that you are doing the same. I cannot wait for you to return to me so I can hold you in my arms and assure myself that you are truly well. To be honest with you, I have taken a page out of Felix’s book and brought your pillow to my bed; having your scent nearby helps turn my dreams a bit sweeter.**

**I must be off – Cassandra is waiting for me down in Solas’ alcove, and she will never forgive me if she has to stay there too long. Leliana has also begun to glare at me, so I fear I am trying her patience as well. I know you likely won’t have time or the means to write me in return, and that’s alright – I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you while you wander the wilds. You are never far from my thoughts, Dorian. Stay safe, and come home to Felix and I.**

**Love always,**

**Cullen**

**I have tried my best to follow all your letter writing advice – when you return, you will have to let me know if I succeeded.**

~.~.~

Being handed Cullen’s letter by Scout Harding had brightened Dorian’s day immeasurably; he didn’t even mind the way she leered and winked at him as she passed it over. It had been rainy and miserable all day, and the mood of the company hadn’t been much better. They’d joined up with the Chargers and, more importantly and unfortunately, the elf called Gatt. Dorian didn’t like him much, and the feeling seemed to be entirely mutual – he’d glared and made biting comments under his breath, and said a few choice words in Qunlat that seemed to put Bull on edge.

He didn’t like that his former lover hadn’t spoken up on his behalf, and he didn’t know what he’d have done without the support of Krem and Dalish. Gatt made them as uncomfortable as he made Dorian, and though they’d been aware of Bull’s loyalties to the Qun as Ben-Hassrath, they and the rest of the Chargers didn’t seem to enjoy the living reminder of it. So while Gatt made passive aggressive jabs at Dorian, they spent the afternoon making fun of the other man under their breaths to each other, where no one else could hear them.

And even though the sun didn’t come out when he got Cullen’s letter, though things were still rainy and miserable around him, the whole world seemed lighter. It gave him an excuse to duck away from the rest of the group and have just a bit of time to himself. He couldn’t help but smile as he read through it once, then again. By the fourth reading, he was feeling just a little teary, so he tucked it away to keep – possibly forever. He couldn’t wait to get home to his Amatus and reward him thoroughly for the vast improvement in his letter writing ability.

He just couldn’t wait to get back _home_ , which was wherever Cullen and Felix were.

Bull had turned quiet and Sylaera was tending towards cruelty in her dealings with Dorian, especially now that she realized Gatt disliked him. Oddly, the woman still sent him the odd, apologetic smile – that was when he remembered that she thought of them as _friends_ , despite everything. However, she wanted this alliance with the Qunari far more than she cared about his feelings. If Gatt demanded it of her, Dorian half-thought she might hand him over to be collared like those poor bastards who were born with magic under the Qun.

So instead of sitting down for dinner at the Inquisitor’s campfire to make awkward conversation with all of them (though Sera probably would have managed to lighten the mood considerably) he spent his evening with the Chargers. They at least were in high spirits despite their boss’ strange mood; it was nice to laugh and swap tales without feeling anyone glaring at him. It was even better to know that though they all ribbed him endlessly over his romance with Cullen, they didn’t they didn’t bear him any ill-will.

When he finally left their company to sleep in the tent he’d been sharing with Sera, he had a good feeling about the day and mission to come.

~.~.~

“Hah! Take that, ‘Vinty bastards! Arrows for all!” Hearing Sera cackle was usually cause for alarm, but Dorian always found it strangely comforting whenever the sound danced over the battlefield. If she was laughing, it meant they were doing just fine – if she went silent and solemn, he knew they were in trouble. Since she was visibly delighted from her perch atop a boulder where she was raining down chaos on their Venatori enemies, he could only surmise that the fight as a whole was going well.

In the ebb and flow of battle, he’d ended up slightly separated from his usual companions. That could have turned into a disaster – such a scenario was always when he burned through healing potion after healing potion – but Gatt had taken it upon himself to guard Dorian’s back. Dorian didn’t think they’d ever get along, and he still didn’t _like_ the elf who’d turned to the Qun, but you couldn’t help but respect a man who saved your life. Since they’d both done that for each other several times, he thought that maybe the snarky comments between them might at least come to a stop.

From the brief nod Gatt gave him as their area of the battlefield thinned of enemies, it seemed the feeling was mutual.

While the elf vanished in a puff of smoke, presumably to join Bull and Sylaera where they’d been too busy causing absolute mayhem to guard their mage, Dorian fell back to Sera’s boulder. When he got close, he saw that the armor covering her left leg was smoking; she’d clearly been hit at some point by a spell, though she didn’t seem too troubled by it. “Doing alright? I’m at your service if you need a potion.”

“Shaddup Vinty Lord, or I’ll think you’re one of them and wham! It’ll be arrows for you. ‘Sides, we’re almost done, and Skinner’n them already sent up their signal. Wasn’t even a jolly fight, really. Needed a bit less magic and a bit more lordy shits. Sure I can’t shoot you? Yer rich enough to count – would make me feel better.”

“Nowhere fatal, or you’ll have Cullen after you.” Dorian answered, grinning as he sent a wall of fire springing up between Bull and three Venatori soldiers about to charge him. One of the stupid Blighters went right through it, while the other two were now confused and milling about – which made them perfect targets for Gatt and Sylaera, who dispatched them with great haste. Bull finished off the one on fire, and then… silence. It was over, and it had been far easier than he’d been anticipating.

“Oohhh, Cully-wully. He’s so sweet with you it makes me sick. Stick out yer foot – he won’t mind if yer laid up in bed a few days. Won’t let you bleed out – promise!” As they bantered, Sylaera, Bull and Gatt were evaluating the situation, and Dorian still felt a bit uneasy. This had been a skirmish more than anything else – the whole fight couldn’t have lasted more than fifteen minutes. For a top-secret, incredibly important red lyrium drop-off point, it certainly was poorly guarded. Still, the proof was in the pudding, and both their fire and the one lit by the Chargers to set off their flares were burning merrily, so the Qunari Dreadnaught had to be on the way; they’d done it.

Sylaera would have her alliance.

Sera sent up a cheer when the Dreadnaught came into view – it was an impressive sight, he’d say that much for it. Whatever arguments he had against the Qun (and he had so very, very many) neither he nor any other citizen of the Imperium could deny that they were masters of the art of war. When he chanced a glance over at Sylaera, the fierce joy on her face caught him off guard; he had a feeling that if she weren’t still trying to impress Gatt, she’d be cheering right along with their crazy archer. The Qunari agent had a strangely satisfied smirk on his face, where Bull seemed grimmer than the situation warranted. Maker help him, but as much as this might help the Inquisition – they were so short on true allies – he just didn’t like the idea of it. Truthfully, he doubted it would gain them as much as it would lose them, especially among the rest of those in power in Thedas.

Dorian still wanted to shout with delight when the Venatori ship went down, along with it’s terrible shipment. He could distantly hear the Chargers hooting and hollering taunts, and when their awful song started up he almost joined in. It was a good day, with no casualties and what seemed like few serious injuries; the bright, happy feeling that had started with Cullen’s letter and continued through his evening with the Chargers had lasted out the day. Things had for once gone completely according to plan, and now they could go _home_.

Of course, that was when everything fell apart.

“No! You have to call a retreat – there’s no way they can hold off all those Venatori alone.” Dorian found himself protesting loudly when he realized what was going on. “There was always risk to the Dreadnaught – did the Qunari think they’d get off without losing anything here? We disrupted the lyrium drop-off. That was always the important thing-”

“If the ship goes down, the alliance will be withdrawn!” Gatt told him sharply, their mutual respect dissolving in the face of the situation before them. “The Dreadnaught must survive at all costs. The Qun demands it, Hissrad.”

“Why are the lives of your people any more valuable than our own?” He was bellowing now, anger and disbelief raging inside his chest. “The Chargers have served the Inquisition-”

“They serve the Iron Bull, who is Qunari and will do as the Qun demands if he does not want to be Tal-Vashoth. Will you betray us, Hissrad? I have defended you against accusations of treachery for long enough – this is the line. Do as the Qun demands!”

“Sylaera! You can’t possibly-”

“If you want this alliance, Inquisitor, you won’t call a retreat either. They must hold that position long enough for the Dreadnaught to get away – that is our price. That is what you will pay if you want the first alliance with the Qunari in the history of Thedas. It is your choice, Inquisitor.”

Gatt was playing Sylaera as skillfully as a trained Bard would a lute. He could see the hunger in her eyes, the _need_ to be the one person outside the Qunari that they would call friend. She wanted this alliance more than she wanted anything, and the realization of what she’d sacrifice in order to get what she wanted hit him like a knife in the gut. Was this what Vivienne had felt, he wondered as he stared at the woman who held the fate of them all in her hands. Because it felt like a betrayal, watching her throw away the lives of men and women who had served her so well. They’d gone to Therinfal Redoubt and battled the Red Templars and an Envy Demon at her behest. They’d followed every order, gone on every mission, and had never once complained or questioned anything.

They were his _friends_ , and they were being tossed away without a single care because of _politics_.

He could see Sera reaching the same conclusion, and when he met her eyes they were full of the same grief and shock that must be in his own. “There might be time for us to get down there,” she started, talking fast and almost without pause. “We can take the Vinty pissers from the back, give Skinner’n them some room to breathe-”

“Yes! If we flank them there’s a chance we could get out of this with only a few casualties, and that _Blighted Dreadnaught_ will be just fine. We can have the alliance and save the Chargers, Sylaera, _please_.” He saw the woman hesitate, even as he and Sera went to the edge of the cliff, scouting out the best and shortest way down. “Sylaera, Bull, _please_.”

“No!” Of course Gatt would be opposed, Dorian thought bitterly. He wondered if the Qunari would object if he lit the bastard on fire; only the Dreadnaught had to survive, after all. “We hold this position, and the Chargers hold theirs. We can’t know if there are forces on their way here as well; we stay, Hissrad.” Bull, who’d started toward the cliff as well, stopped and looked over his shoulder at the other man. “We stay, Hissrad.”

“… we stay.” Bull agreed in a quiet rumble, dashing the last of Dorian’s hope.

When the Venatori reached the Charger’s position, he and Sera let out soft cries of distress. He was too numb to be surprised when the woman turned to him and buried her face in his shoulder, gripping the straps on his armor tightly. She was shaking in what he was certain was helpless anger; ‘Big People’ had just casually and carelessly decided the fate of ‘Little People’, and she couldn’t do anything to change it. She’d had friends among them just as Dorian did, and now they would all…

Unlike her, Dorian forced himself to watch; the fight ended with not a single Charger still standing. The Dreadnaught was still close enough that it could be caught by a skilled mage; he had to fight the urge to sink it himself. Only the knowledge that Sylaera would kill him and Cullen would be alone stopped him. The Venatori at the opposite camp melted away into the rain and the trees, and he _hated_ them for denying him the chance to revenge his friends.

Where he and Sera wore their grief openly and Bull seemed solemn with a glint of sorrow in his eye, Sylaera looked incredibly pleased with herself. Gatt was commending her for the way she’d handled the dissension in their ranks, and was assuring her that she would receive a very complimentary report from him. The alliance was assured, and she was a great leader, even if she didn’t follow the Qun – perhaps he would have someone more able than him come to Skyhold to speak of it to her. Maybe she too could find ‘meaning’ in its demands. Sylaera was puffing up further and further, preening under the man’s praise even if Dorian knew she would have no intention of converting.

“’S always bloody belief causing trouble,” Sera whispered fiercely into his shoulder, voice choked with emotion. “Beliefs that don’t mean _shite_ when you put ‘em against people. Skinner was good people, an’ I liked Krem and Grim, and even Dalish wasn’t bad fer a witchy pisser. They were _our people_ , Dorian, and she let ‘em die like they weren’t nothing.”

“I know.”

“Gonna shout at her later. Won’t bring ‘em back though.”

“No,” Dorian agreed softly, watching the smoke from the Charger’s fire drift into the air, where it slowly disappeared. “No it won’t.”

As their party moved out, far more grim than when the day began, Dorian wondered how long it would be before the Qun demanded that Sylaera and the Inquisition be dealt with. If you weren’t Qunari you were their enemy, no matter what sort of ‘alliance’ they claimed to be offering. If the Inquisitor and the Inquisition became a threat to their interests, they would be dealt with as handily as the Venatori smugglers. Sylaera had thrown the Chargers – good, strong allies – away for a political alliance that meant less than nothing in the grand scheme of things. Dorian wondered if she realized how angry Orlais, Fereldan and the rest of Thedas would be when they realized she’d allied herself with a declared enemy of the Chantry. Even her own people, the Dalish, weren’t hated or feared half so much as the Qunari, and having them as allies was a dangerous game to play.

He wondered too how long it would be until she began to throw her Inner Circle away for gains that were just as meaningless.

~.~.~

Gatt left them before dark fell.

Back at the one of the Inquisition’s base camps, Sera screamed at Sylaera and Bull both until she was hoarse, tears streaming down her face. Then she shut herself away in their tent, and Dorian decided to give her some semblance of privacy as she wept. He felt the need for some quiet time himself, so he drifted away to the edge of a nearby cliff, staring down at the turbulent waters of the Waking Sea. His emotions were roiling just as much, and he was unable to settle on just one. Anger, sorrow, shame, and a fierce longing to be home all struggled for dominance, and he wasn’t sure how to live with himself after this.

He could have broken rank; he could have tried to help them. Instead, he’d let Sylaera, Bull and Gatt throw away the lives of people he liked and respected.

Facing himself in the morning would be hard; facing Cullen felt near impossible. At the same time, all he wanted was to hide away in the comfort of his lover’s arms until he was ready to take on the world again. Dorian wanted their bed and their dog; he wanted Kattrin to giggle and blush as she ran letters between them. Maker help him, he wanted to tease Nylan until the fellow turned pink and fled his presence. Losing himself in his work with Dagna was almost as pleasant a thought as losing himself in Cullen – the funny, enthusiastic dwarf always made him smile. He just wanted to be _home_.

Dorian ignored the occasional Inquisition soldier who passed him on their patrols. Thankfully they paid him the same courtesy, and he wasn’t sure how long he sat there quietly in the cold rain, lost in his thoughts, before he was pulled back to the real world. That he saw Bull moving through the trees meant that the Qunari wanted to be seen; it was an invitation of the subtlest sort.

As angry as he was at the great ox, as much as he could hardly stand the sight of him, Dorian hesitated only a moment before he stood and ghosted after him. While he’d known the Chargers for only a few months, Bull had been with them for years. This had to be hurting him, even if the doom was partly of his making. Sylaera would no doubt offer comfort of a physical nature later – they’d been loudly ‘comforting’ each other through the whole trip – but maybe Bull might like something different just then. Maybe he’d like a friend.

So he pushed down his own emotions, forcing himself to be as empty and calm as he could; otherwise he’d end up screaming himself mute as Sera had done. That wouldn’t be at all helpful, so he had to do this – he could do this. Dorian could be a friend here, despite everything he himself was feeling, in honor of their past relationship. Even if it hadn’t been what he’d wanted it to be, Bull had given Dorian parts of himself. To be called ‘Kadan’ wasn’t quite the same as to be ‘Amatus’, but it had _meant_ something.

He would do this in honor of being Bull’s Kadan, for however short a time it had lasted.

It would be a lie to say he was surprised when he followed Bull to the place where the Chargers had lost their lives. For once, the chilly rain was a bit of a blessing; the scent in the air wasn’t enough to choke him. Scavenger animals had already been at their bodies, however, and in the case of Rocky and Stitches the sight was bad enough that bile rose in his throat. Keeping himself from retching took everything he had, but the naked grief on Bull’s face demanded silence and respect.

Dorian took his cue from the Qunari, though there were no words between them – it was easy to see what he wanted to do. Together, they gathered the bodies of The Bull’s Chargers, all forty-three of them. They’d lost a few members at Therinfal Redoubt and hadn’t gotten around to recruiting yet, Dorian remembered dully. Krem had said it was always bad to advertise for new members when there was a war or something else ‘big’ going on – you got ‘the wrong sort’ according to him. They’d quietly been on the lookout for talent, and had started the process of poaching a few Inquisition soldiers; it was a blessing, a small and terrible one, that they hadn’t welcomed anyone new to their ranks before this mission.

Seeing Krem and Dalish was hardest, because they’d been the closest to his heart. It was watching Bull carefully – almost tenderly – gather his second in his huge arms to lay him with the rest that finally broke the numb dam in Dorian’s heart. There was no shame in the tears he felt dripping down his cheeks, or the burn in his throat. The Charger’s had earned every drop of grief he felt for them, even those whose names he’d never known.

“If I’d known,” Bull started slowly, softly, once every Charger was accounted for. “If I’d known that bringing them to the Inquisition would mean losing _all_ of them this way…” A retort born of white-hot anger almost fell from Dorian’s lips, but he dug his nails into his palm hard and managed to remain silent. “I’d have come to her as Hissrad, not the Iron Bull. Krem could’ve handled leading them, and they’d have made it through this. Instead they died for a man that never really existed.”

“ _Bullshit_ ,” Dorian bit out, unable to help himself. “The Iron Bull was real, you bastard – admit it. They deserve that much from you at least.”

“… yeah. Yeah, you’re right. They always deserved more than me. I liked being Bull, you know.”

“I know.” “His life was always a lot more… full than Hissrad’s.”

“If you’re expecting me to be surprise by that, you’re going to be disappointed. You know how I feel about the Qun.”

“I do. They never said anything – not where I could hear ‘em – but they felt the same. I… if I could have given it up for anyone, if I ever were to become Tal-Vashoth for _anything_ , it would always have been them. And if it had been them, I’d have fought for you after.”

“Bull…”

“But it wasn’t meant to be, I guess. Gatt was right – this was the line. They were my line.”

“If Sylaera hadn’t…”

“I would have sounded the retreat if she’d told me to.”

“Maker’s breath… you _wanted_ her to.” Dorian breathed with sudden understanding. This whole mission had been a test on so many levels, and it just pissed him off even more. Krem and the rest had deserved better than to be pawns in a bloody political game.

“No. Bull wanted her to. He’s gone now.” In the silence that followed that sentence, he tried to puzzle out what the Qunari meant by that. The implications were chilling, and possibly far-reaching. How far did the sentiment go? Because Bull had followed Sylaera, without question – she’d paid him, and beyond that they liked each other. They were friends even more than she was with Dorian, and Bull was loyal to his friends.

‘Hissrad’ was loyal, absolutely and without question, to the Qun.

“… she doesn’t even realize you’ll turn on her if you Blighted Qun demands it. She has no idea what this alliance actually means.”

“No. She doesn’t.”

_“You _fucking_ bastard.”_

“I’m sorry, Dorian.”

__

“That’s… not important right now,” he forced himself to say, turning his attention back to the dead in front of them. “I know Krem followed the chant, but I don’t know what the rest believed in. I don’t even know the proper rites for him – I couldn’t begin to guess for Rocky or Dalish.”

__

“I’m Qunari – I’m not supposed to care what happens to the bodies. They aren’t in them anymore.”

__

“If you quote the fucking Qun at me, I will light your ass on fire,” Dorian hissed, surprised when Bull (he couldn’t, wouldn’t call him Hissrad, because he _hated_ everything Hissrad stood for) gave a pained laugh in response.

__

“I was hoping you’d maybe do that for them. I… I want to take them home. To Skyhold. There’s a Quna- … there’s a small rite of sorts I can give ‘em. It should happen at Skyhold.”

__

“You made sure I saw you so I could light their pyre?”

__

“They all liked you.”

__

“… I liked them too.”

__

“Please, Dorian? Not for me – for them.”

__

Though he wanted to say a prayer to the Maker just to spite Bull, Dorian was silent as he did what the Qunari had asked of him. The rain would have made it harder for a regular fire to consume the Chargers fully – Dorian’s magic had no such trouble. Solemn, respectful quiet pervaded the clearing Bull had chosen for the burn site, and as the flames did their job, Dorian lost himself in memories of the people they’d lost. Krem and Dalish he would always hold close to him, and the rest would never be forgotten either. They would live on in songs and tales, he promised himself, if he had to commission Bards to write them himself. When he went back to Tevinter, he and Cullen would find Krem’s family, he decided, to bring them news of their son and offer what small comfort they could.

__

Bull didn’t say anything even when the fire died down, grief still wracking his face as he gathered up their remains. It wasn’t much – ash and a bit of bone – but it was obviously enough for whatever rite he had in mind. And at least the animals would have no more of them.

__

Once their task was done, they stood together for a while longer, both unwilling to break the silence or return to the Inquisition camp. Finally, however, Dorian sighed softly and looked up at his former lover. “So… Bull’s gone, is he?”

__

“Yes.”

__

“How long, do you think, before the Qunari turn against the Inquisition?”

__

“… hard to say. Right now the Inquisition is keeping the chaos at bay, and we’re fighting you Vints. Once the Inquisition stops serving it’s purpose…”

__

“Right. Will you promise me something?” Dorian asked quietly, eyes on the horizon that he could only just see through the trees. The sun was falling, and darkness soon would follow.

__

“If I can.”

__

“When they come… when the Qunari break this alliance. If we’re both there, with Sylaera… don’t let them take me alive, Bull. If we can’t hold you back… don’t let them collar me.”

__

“Never, Kadan.” The Qunari’s voice was surprisingly fierce and earnest, enough that Dorian believed him.

__

That promise was all Dorian could ask of the Qunari, and he knew it. Bull… _Hissrad_ would never disobey the Qun to fight on Sylaera’s side. Hissrad wouldn’t pass along any information that would give a hint that such an event was about to occur.

__

All he could ask from Hissrad was a quick death.

__

As they began the trek back to camp in the steady, chilly rain, all Dorian could think of was how much he wanted to be home, snuggled up with Felix and Cullen.

__

**Author's Note:**

> Hnng. I maybe shed a tear or two writing this. T_T It was... really, really hard, and I wanted a way to save them AND secure the alliance, but that's just me being sappy and not good with characters I love dying. I had to _WATCH VIDEOS_ of the Inquisitor making this choice, and it was AWFUL. I cannot imagine making this choice in-game. T_T
> 
> Feel free to scream at me about how terrible this is here or on my [Tumblr](http://tahlreth.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
